


Accidentally?

by casbean



Series: Dick Pic AU [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boss Castiel, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottom Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester, Dean in Panties, Dick Pics, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Personal Assistant Dean Winchester, Power Dynamics, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, little bit of power play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-30 16:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15755610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbean/pseuds/casbean
Summary: The one where Dean sent a fucking dick pic to his boss, and he doesn't get fired.





	Accidentally?

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this tweet:
> 
> BOSS: Know why I called you in here?
> 
> ME: Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic
> 
> BOSS [stops pouring two glasses of wine]: Accidentally?
> 
> by @ArfMeasures on twitter

“Dean, could I see you in my office at 5:15?”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

Dean whines silently as he watches the perfect ass of his boss walk back into his office. Fuck. Fuck, this is bad. This is really bad. 

Dean’s already not the best assistant in the world, because this isn't his dream job and he never really expected to keep it past the end of the summer. But now… now, well. His next performance evaluation is going to be fucking abysmal.

Dean sent fucking dick pics to his boss.

They weren’t meant for him, obviously. Not that Castiel Novak isn’t dead fucking gorgeous and yes, yes maybe Dean _did_ think about all the places in the office he could get bent over by him but - point is, those pictures were not meant for him. They were for a dude named Chuck he’d met on Grindr and, well, obviously, a mistake was made. And Dean didn’t realize said mistake until he re-opened his text messages an hour later and saw who he sent them to, along with the little _seen at 12:53✔️_. So not only did his boss receive high definition pictures of his hard-on, but he also probably recognized the fact that they were taken from the employee bathroom and sent during lunch, which is inexcusable. Dean isn’t sure what he’ll get chewed up for most; sexual harassment or having boners in company bathrooms on company time.

Castiel will have his fucking _pick_ of reasons to fire him. (Ha.)

So really it’s no wonder he wants to see Dean in his office after everyone has hurriedly left for the day. And this may have just started as a temp job, but Dean actually likes this place now. The hours are perfect, his boss is, well, kind of awesome, and the pay’s actually decent. And Dean needs this pay. He's a college student and he enjoys food.

So he waits until everyone clears out to step up to Castiel’s office and gently knock at the door.

“Hey, um, you wanted me?”

“Yes, I did. I do.”

While Dean expected Mr Novak to be sitting at his desk with a concerned, serious, _you’re-about-to-get-so-fired_ look on his face, Dean instead finds him on his feet with a welcoming smile. His jacket is off, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tie is loosened and his hair has been messed with, probably by his fingers running through it over and over again. Dean has marvelled at these fingers too many times to count.

Now said fingers are wrapped around a bottle of wine, which he’s pouring into a glass. The lights of his office have been dimmed, and Dean, well - Dean’s not sure what the fuck is going on.

His first thought is that Mr Novak has the weird habit of relaxing with a glass of wine after firing an employee, which is… well, to each their own.

“Look, sir, I-”

“Do you know why I called you in here, Dean?”

Lord. These fucking end-of-the-world blue eyes could turn his brain into mush and his dick into the fucking Eiffel tower.

“I, uh - look, I’m really sorry about that pictures. It was an accident. A - a bad one, I’ll grant you, but-”

“An accident?” Castiel cuts.

His voice has changed, from the smooth, gravelly  _far-away-thunder-a-storm-is-coming_ that hunts Dean’s dreams to a slightly panicked, unsettled tone.

That’s when Dean realizes that Castiel is currently filling up a second glass of wine.

And that for all he knows of Mr Novak, of his kindness and generosity and many many fundraisers and knowing every last janitor’s name - he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to kick back with a drink after firing someone.

“Yeah, uh, what-”

“Oh. I see.”

Castiel frowns and slowly puts the wine down. His cheeks have acquired a delicious shade of pink and his fingers look fucking sinful around the curve of the glass.

He’s avoiding Dean’s eyes. Like _he_ has anything to be uncomfortable with.

“I’m very sorry, Dean. I have apparently misinterpreted things.”

Relief wraps around Dean like a big wool blanket and he bites back a grin.

“So you, um - you _weren’t_ going to fire me?”

“No.”

Castiel puts the glasses away and turns towards him. Embarrassment heats up his whole face and it’s beautiful.

“I understand that mistakes happen. I… obviously have just made a major one. I can’t apologize enough.”

Dean lets out a breathy laughter.

“So you thought I sent you a dick pic and your answer was to, uh, poor me wine…?”

“I know this is highly inappropriate as I’m your direct superior, although I did get the appropriate form from HR regarding-”

Dean takes the piece of paper Castiel is handing him. He laughs again as he skims over it.

“Dude…”

Okay. Okay, he did just call his boss dude - but seriously. _Dude_.

“I will have HR write a different draft regarding this turn of events-”

The poor guy actually looks disappointed, and Dean has no intention of letting this fly. He steps around the desk separating them and closer to Castiel.

“So what what were you thinking would happen? We’d have a glass of wine… go out on a dinner date? Or were you just gonna cut to the chase and fuck me on your desk?”

Castiel’s eyes widen, big and blue and a little wet, his lips part. So pink, so soft.

“I didn’t - I hadn’t-”

Another step and Dean’s crowding his personal space. He grabs Castiel’s wrist and steadies him, and then falls into his gaze, bluer and darker than the night sky stretching outside the large windows of the office tower. It makes it hard to keep his balance, but Dean manages.

“Tell me.”

Dean is so close he can almost feel the knot Castiel’s eyebrows form against his own forehead.

“I wanted - I wanted to talk. I - I did think, that maybe - given the nature of your advances, that you - maybe you wanted - but I wanted to talk, first, of course-”

“That’s nice,” Dean murmurs.

Castiel turns away, exposing his neck, and Dean can feel the heat of his body, can almost brush his lips against Castiel’s cheek and the delicious stubble permanently covering his jaw.

“I have always had difficulties understanding the subtleties of certain personal interactions,” Castiel says in a hushed voice. “Especially with intimate relationships.” Dean traces a circular pattern with his thumb on the inside of his wrist. “The pictures seemed to indicate a clear intention, which was a relief. I thought that for once I knew for sure that my feelings were requited, but I apparently was mistaken. I’m sorry.”

Dean places his free hand on Castiel’s hip and leans over, lips brushing on his cheek, the bolt of his jaw, then behind his ear. He can feel the way his boss' breath hitches, the way his pulse quickens right under his lips. It’s magnificent.

“I do _requite_ , Cas,” he whispers right into the shell of his ear. Their fingers link and he squeezes Castiel’s hand reassuringly. Dean brings his mouth up to his temple, where he keeps speaking, lips against skin. “But I never imagined you were actually thinking anything of me, besides that I’m a sleazy worker half-assing his way through life.”

Cas’ palm find their ways to Dean’s cheek. He’s still frowning, like what Dean is saying doesn’t make any sense.

“I think the world of you. You may sometimes… _slack_ off, but I’ve been watching you. Did you not think I'd look up the references you put in your resume? That I’d hire someone I have no respect for?”

Dean groans and shifts his gaze.  
  
“I’ve read what you’ve written for your school paper. I looked at your portfolio. I’ve seen enough of you to know you’re extremely talented, Dean. You’re kind, and bright, and excellent at what you love. Not to mention extremely attractive.”

It’s Dean’s turn to feel his face flashing red.

“Sure,” he mumbles. ”If you say so.”

“I do. Not that the last partfactored in at all when I hired you.”

Dean grins. Of course not. Mr Novak is always so professional. 

Except right now, as he kisses a path down Dean's temple, his cheekbone, his jaw. Until Dean can’t take it anymore.

He grabs Castiel and thoroughly licks into his mouth - he doesn’t even fucking bother with a nice warm up kiss at this point, he just fucking goes for it and Castiel is right there with him. He knots his fingers in Dean’s hair and groans, his body hot and firm against Dean’s. Fuck, _fuck_ his tongue can do things, knee-wobbling things, and his lips are incredible, so fucking smooth and plump and plushy, and his teeth - God his teeth are doing things too. Dean’s knees buckle when Castiel takes a harsh, punitive bite into his lower lip and holds until Dean whimpers, fingers digging in Castiel’s broad frame to keep himself standing.

And then Castiel’s teeth are nibbling on his jaw, down his neck, fucking bitting on his collarbones, and he murmurs filthy, filthy things while his hands roam over Dean’s body, whose ass has collapsed with the desk.

“I think you mentioned the idea of me fucking you right on this desk?”

“Yes, fuck-” Dean moans as Castiel grabs his ass with both hands, squeezing tight, before his palms slides to the front and press on his aching cock. “Yes, _sir_ -”

Dean’s fingers make their way under Castiel’s shirt and around what he finds out to be sharp, defined hipbones and the fucking _muscles_ of his waist. He’s very much focused on that, on how Cas’ lower back _moves_ as he keeps kissing and kissing and kissing Dean, groping at his thighs, his chest, teasing his nipples through his shirt.

“Fuck- please-”

“Do you still want that?”

Dean has already started undoing Castiel’s tie, fingers shaking - fucking _shaking_ \- as they go from the silk to the buttons of his shirt to the hard, hard cock still trapped in his pants. His mind is fuzzy with the aching desire coursing through his veins, screaming for too much at once - Castiel’s touch, burning on his skin, his lips, soft and soothing, his teeth, biting and hurting just the right way. Dean’s cock is still frustratingly trapped under too many layers. He needs friction and he needs it now, and he also fucking needs those ridiculously long, delicate, and infuriating fingers inside of him.

“Dean, I need your consent-”

“Yes, fuck yes, Cas - just-”

“And I need you to sign this-”

Dean growls in frustration as Castiel’s warmth suddenly pulls back, along with the rest of him.

“What?”

Castiel Novak, vice president of northern regional sales, is standing in front of Dean, dishevelled, half clothed, looking utterly wrecked and aroused, with a five pages contract from HR and a pen in his hands.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I never kid about sexual harassment, Dean.”

“I don’t need a stupid-”

“Yes, you do. If we do this, I need you to know that legally I cannot fire you, and your job will be entirely under the supervision of Todd. This way if you ever decide to rupture our relationship or are feeling uncomfortable with things I ask of you-”

“Is this fucking 50 shades of grey? Cas, do you have a torture chamber behind that wall? ‘Cause I mean I’m not entirely against it...”

“No. If course not,” Castiel frowns, very stern. “It’s not anything like that. Although we should probably discuss a safe word after this-”

“Nice. Let’s talk about that. That’s fun.”

“This is about your job, Dean. You need to be assured that your employment doesn’t depend on this. On me. Please.”

Dean takes the papers and the pen with a resigned sigh - although he can’t help the warmth blooming in his chest. Castiel cares so much and it’s adorable. Obviously he’s also covering his own ass, but still. There’s just something in his eyes, something that’s all about Dean.

“I trust you, Cas.”

“That’s very nice of you to say.”

Dean is about to sign when Castiel steps in closer again.

“Wait. You need to read it.”

“What?”

“You need to read it. And understand it.”

“I - I looked at it-”

“You didn’t read it through,” Castiel frowns.

“Seriously?”

Castiel looks very, very serious.

“Dean, I could be making you sign something that says you’re giving up all your rights. I could be using this to fuck you over-”

“Well, hopefully-” Dean grins, cocking his eyebrows.

“I’m serious.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“No,” Castiel smiles, looking over at Dean with so much softness Dean melts inside a little bit. “But you should always read the entire contract before signing it. Never sign something before you have thoroughly read it and understood it.”

Dean squints at him.

“I feel like you’re the kind of guy who reads all the terms and conditions online before you check the box.”

Cas looks puzzled.

“Of course I do. Otherwise that would be lying.”

Dean scoffs and chews his lower lip (because holy hell for a Very Serious Businessman, Cas is fucking adorable), which draws Castiel’s gaze to it. 

“You need to read this. For me.”

Dean grumbles. “Every second I’m not signing this is a second I don’t have you inside of me and that’s another kind of crime, Cas.”

Castiel laughs and moves closer, putting his hands on Dean’s hips to gently rotate him around, until he can brace his arms around Dean’s waist. With Dean now facing the desk, Castiel lays the document in front of him, and then proceeds to lay small kisses and nibbles on the back of Dean’s neck.

“Read it aloud for me,” he purrs in his ears.

Dean feels Castiel hardening against his ass and can barely see the words dancing across the page.

He does his best, reading every point, which Cas makes him discuss to prove he understands them, as he bites on Dean’s earlobes and circles his nipples with the pad of his fingers.

His other hand slides lower and lower down Dean’s stomach, until it’s teasing under his waistband, and Dean can barely utter the last few words of the fucking thing, his knuckles whitening around the edge of the table.

“Did you understand all of that, Dean?”

“Yes,” Dean moans, unable to keep his hips from grinding back against Cas, who’s trapping him against the table. Fuck, he’s hard. And Cas’ hands are unholy.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Fuck, Cas, please-”

“Explain it, then.” 

“You can’t fire me, I answer to Todd, you can’t veto Todd, human resources will be all over it, if I want to be transferred to another branch or department I’m always allowed. And if I feel like I’ve been in any way - _fuck_ -” a particularly harsh suck to his skin mixed with a slow roll of Castiel’s hips sends Dean’s head into a spin. “- like I’ve been in anyway fired for wrongful reasons, I can sue for - for five hundred thousand - fuck - fucking dollars,” Dean pants, Castiel licking and nipping up his neck.

“Yes. Very good.”

Castiel pulls back slightly, only to grab the pen and put it in Dean’s hands.

“Sign it.”

Dean does with a very shaky hand. Castiel takes the paper, takes a picture of it with his phone and sends to Dean. Dean just stays there, leaning over the table, chest heaving, and then turns around slowly.

“What now?”

Castiel marches back towards him.

“You seem to enjoy doing what I order you too. ”

“Yeah. Fuck. I love that.”

Cas hums and Dean can _feel_ it against him. Then he moves away again and walks to the leather chair in the corner of his office, pulling Dean along with him.

“Thought you were gonna fuck me on your desk?”

“I actually have other plans.”

He sits down. Dean stands in front of him, awaiting an order. Castiel raises a hungry look to him. It’s warm and dark, like the sea on a hot summer night.

“Those pictures,” he says, slowly, his voice low. “They were… they were really something.”

Dean chews his bottom lip. “Glad you liked them.”

“Are you still wearing... them?”

Castiel’s eyes are black, the blue circles shrunk back to make place for the blown up width of his pupils.

“Yes, sir."

Castiel lets out an actual _growl_.

“Show me.”

Dean undresses slowly. Castiel’s gaze is so intense, so _heavy_ on him, and he feels more than just naked as his clothes fall on the floor. He feels striped, bared, raw. His skin prickles as he stands there alone, his heart beating a little too loud.

Castiel’s fingers twitch on the armchairs, his cheeks are flushed, his eyes are pitch black. He’s devouring every inch of Dean with his gaze, finally landing on the dark blue panties stretching around Dean’s cock.

“Were you wearing them for him?” Castiel suddenly asks. There’s a line between his eyebrows, a tension in his jaw.

“What?”

“The man. The man you were _intending_ those pictures for. Is he the reason you are wearing them?”

Dean shakes his head, biting back a smile at the jealous undertones of Castiel’s inquisition.

“No. I, uh. I just like them. I don’t wear them every day, just when I’m feeling… I don’t know. I didn’t know he’d - I don’t even know why sent him those pictures. Or - tried to. Especially since, uh, this pair is - these are kind of... I got those because of you.”

Castiel tilts his head, his mouth part. There’s a beat.

“Because of me?”

Heat floods Dean’s face and chest. There’s something incredibly arousing about standing here, naked in the AC air, in those frilly panties and telling his fully clothed boss his deepest darkest secrets.

“Yeah, um. I usually only buy pink ones. But the color of this one it just… really reminded me of your eyes.”

Castiel’s mouth twitches up, as do his eyebrows.

“My eyes?”

“Yeah. Just… blue. Dark. But… luminescent, too. And really gorgeous.”

“How long have you had desire for me, Dean?”

“I, um.”

Dean’s starting to be a bit cold just standing there, goosebumps on his skin, hair standing up, nipples hardening. This is like a fucking job interview. But naked. And fully erect. With his boss looking like he’s about to eat him alive.

“Pretty much since the day we met. You, um. Were wearing that pink shirt and had that - that peach fuzz and your eyes were just…”

Dean bites his lip at the memory. Fuck, Cas was _gorgeous_. He always is, but that day was like getting hit by a fucking lightning strike. Dean’s world spun on its axis. Nothing has ever been the same since.

“And then, um. A few days later, you went off on this guy for littering and saying it was the janitor's’ job to clean it. You were so angry but it was so - _controlled_ \- and your voice was all… loud and fucking hot. You told him you’d demote him to janitor except Marge deserved better than to have to work with lazy assholes like him.”

“He really was an asshole,” Cas grins. 

“Yeah. Well, that’s the day I knew I was screwed. Everything from then on was tryna distract myself from how badly I - y’know. Wanted you. I never thought you’d...”

It's very hard to finish his sentences, or align any of his thoughts, with Castiel staring at him like this. 

“Come here.”

Castiel stretches out his hand and drags Dean to him, parting Dean’s legs over his thighs to sit him on his lap. Dean loves the soft-rough fabric of Castiel’s pants under his skin, and the warm, _warm_ way his eyes roam over his body. Castiel kisses him deep, palm around his cheek. His touch is just so fucking grounding, so fucking _there,_  so fucking smooth and firm and no one has ever touched Dean like that. And he knows that no one ever fucking will again.

Dean trembles as Castiel holds him close, so close against him. As his hands move down his body, the tip of his fingers teasing down his side, barely there on the swell of his ass. Dean’s fists twist in the fabric of Castiel’s shirt, he pants against Cas’ mouth.

“Please,” he hears himself say.

Castiel smiles. His grin is fucking predatory. “Please?”

“Touch me.”

Castiel’s eyes are luminous, curious. He looks up at Dean with endless wonder, like he’s never seen anything like it, like every breath Dean takes brings a new sunrise.

“I am touching you.”

“Not like that. Not enough. Touch me.”

So Castiel does. With his tongue he licks broad in Dean’s mouth and his palms finally slide warm and solid on his body. There’s something about them - Castiel’s hands, his gorgeous long fingers, so strong and _good at doing things_ that drive Dean on the edge of the fucking cliff. He’s shaking by the time Cas has grabbed his ass and pulled him even closer. He writhes, moans, pulling on Cas’ hair and shirt, rocking his hips to rub his cock trapped in satin against the thickness in Cas’ pants. Cas gropes and grips and pinches his flesh until Dean is a heaving, shaky mess.

“Please.”

Castiel laughs, kissing Dean's nose, his cheek. “So eager,” he murmurs. “So beautiful.”

Dean whines.

“Get your goddamn fingers inside of me.”

“Careful, Dean. Need I remind you I’m the one who gives the orders around here?”

Castiel flashes him a grin and a (very bad) wink before fishing a small bottle of lube out of his pocket.

“Prepared, uh?” Dean teases.

Cas lets his _hot, hot mouth_ run up Dean’s neck to the crest of his ear. “Let’s say that things have not been easy for me either since you’ve been around. You’re not the only one who’s had to get creative.”

“What the hell are you waiting for then?”

Dean groans and drops his head on Cas’ shoulder when two wet fingers breach into him. It’s sudden and big and _good_ , so fucking good. The satin stretches tighter around his aching cock because Cas - fucking Cas - just pulled the fabric to the side to sink inside of him and it’s purely _sinful_.

“Holy fuck, Dean,” Castiel murmurs.

He’s barely moving his fingers; Dean is grinding, slowly, sweaty forehead buried in the crook of Cas’ neck. He’s lost, the movement of his hips almost subconscious, a reflex. They just feel _so fucking good_ \- everything feels so fucking good. The soft, soft, wet satin rubbing on the fabric of Cas’ pants; the way Castiel’s fingers crook just the right way to brush against his prostate every time Dean moves; Cas’ mouth so hot against his cheek; his palm so firm and smooth on his lower back. Cas’ body is strong and steady under Dean’s hands, he can hold and grip and pull and he’s _here_ , he’s here and he’s holding Dean and it just feels so fucking perfect. 

Everything about Castiel is perfect. It's intoxicating, it's maddening. His scent, vanilla and spring washed clothes, his scruff that keeps rubbing Dean’s cheek, the strength of his body, the low, low rumble of his voice - _everything_ about him is  _so much_ , and Dean whimpers and whines as he rocks back and forth on Cas’ lap, his cock leaking all over Cas’ dress shirt and his ass tightening around his fingers. It’s not near enough but it's still making his pelvis strain with want, his voice shake as he begs for more.

“Is this okay?” Castiel murmurs as he slides a third finger that Dean takes with a gasp and a nod.

Castiel's hand runs from Dean's back to his front, sliding between them to wrap around Dean’s cock, tight grip smooth and warm - and that’s when Dean just surrenders. He slumps against Cas’ chest, his fingers barely scraping on to Castiel’s shirt. Cas’ mouth is pressed against his temple and he strokes him slowly, listening to his sounds, applying the perfect pressure and twist of the wrist that make Dean whole body tremor and needy whines escape his throat.

“You really love this, don’t you,” he chuckles as Dean begins to rock faster, murmuring please's and thank you’s between ragged breaths. “Being touched like this, fucked like this, completely helpless in my hands.”

“Yes, sir. I do. I do - _fuck_ -”

Cas firmly caresses the head of his cock with his hand on every upstroke now. His fingers are thrusting in and out easily, teasing his rim with no rest, and it just feels so fucking good to wrap and tighten around them as Dean builds closer and closer and closer and -

“If I let you come, do I still get to fuck you?”

“ _Yes_. Yes, fuck yes, _p_ _lease sir-_ ”

“Tell me what I can do, then. What do you need?”

“Just don’t stop. And kiss me.”

Cas very willingly obliges. He kisses Dean like no one else has before. Not only are his lips a goddamn sin on their own but he knows how to give and take just enough, how to feel and _be_ \- he knows to kiss. Dean isn’t sure if it’s an older guy thing - but he’s pretty sure it’s a Castiel thing. Dean has kissed a lot of people, all kinds of people, all ages of people. But no one kisses like Castiel. No one kisses _him_ like Castiel. Like it's all there is. Like Dean is all there is.

He kisses him until Dean can’t breathe anymore, until he’s clawing at Cas’ chest and his teeth bite hard on the flesh of Cas’ neck. His fist tugs in Cas’ hair and pulls as he comes, Cas stroking him through the waves of his orgasm, his pleasure shooting all over Cas’ shirt. 

“Look at the mess you made, Dean…” 

The hand that was wrapped around him is covered in thick white stripes.

“Sorry.” 

“I never said I minded."

Castiel raises his fingers until they reach Dean's mouth and Dean opens up, obedient, and wraps his lips around them.  _Fuck._ He almost comes again just from  those long, sinful fingers pushing inside of his mouth. From how transfixed Castiel looks as he stares at Dean swallow his own taste. A drop remains on his thumb and Castiel fingers slip out so he can suck it clean himself. Dean groans. Fuck.  _Fuck, holy fuck_ \- that mouth, doing  _that_ , is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. 

Maybe he should be disgusted, when he kisses Castiel and tastes himself on their tongues, when Castiel's wet fingers slide behind the back of his head to hold him. But he's not. It's perfect.

Castiel pulls the fingers of his other hand out of Dean - gently, Dean whimpering a little bit at the loss - wipes them, and slowly rubs Dean's shoulders as Dean slumps back against him.

That was so much.

Cas lets him breathe as long as he needs to, and only moves when Dean pulls back and gets up. Castiel moves his hands down and removes Dean panties, slowly, and instead of discarding them to the floor he balls them up and puts them in his pocket. They're wet, stained, and probably ruined.

“That’s disgusting,” Dean says, because it is. He’s smiling though.

“You bought them for me. I’m keeping them.”

“I didn’t see anywhere on that contract that you were allowed to steal my clothes,” Dean teases, because if he doesn't, he might fall at the guy's feet and beg for things that should never be spoken.

“We’ll have to add an addendum, then.”

Dean laughs and helps Castiel out of his clothes. Fuck. He’s even more gorgeous than Dean had imagined and very, _very_ often dreamed of. When does a busy business man get the time to get so fucking toned? All smooth muscles and sharp lines and... And that little trail of chesnut hair falling down from his bellybutton all the way to his... And the _unfair_ way the muscles of his waist dip in a V on his abdomen, inviting hands and lips and all the attention down to his cock. 

Which, of course, is as impressive as the rest of him. Long and thick, flushed red, wet at the tip. There’s so much that Dean wants (like to wrap his lips around it and feel it leaking on his tongue, like maybe also choking on it as his throat gets fucked raw, and also-) but Castiel doesn’t give him time to think. He unrolls a condom on himself and drags Dean back for a kiss.

“Come here. Do you still-?”

“Fuck yes.”

Hands on his waist, Castiel lowers Dean on his dick and slowly moves into him, cradling him against his chest. He’s all muscles and tan skin and so _warm_ , so smooth. So firm and _there_ and as Dean bottoms down he watches Cas’ face, the dark flush of his cheeks, the way he frowns and parts his lips and his eyes just get so  _dark_ , like the entire heat of the world is churning into his irises. The adoration on his face as he looks up to Dean is breathtaking.

Cas fucks him slowly. He takes his time. Dean rests against his chest, forehead on his shoulder. Castiel nuzzles behind his ear, murmurs about how good he feels, how tight and hot and _so fucking good, Dean, so fucking good to me_. And then he kisses him, and pulls his hair a little too hard, and his other arm is so solid around his waist, and his cock is just so thick and full inside of Dean and fuck - _fuck_ ,  _what the fuck-_

Castiel rocks him slow and touches him, he touches him so much - and his sounds; low, low groans that Dean feels vibrating against his own chest. Dean loses track of time. All that matters is moving with him, kissing him, feeling him. It's bliss.

And then, Castiel grabs him. Lifts him like he weights nothing at all, which is a whole new level of _holyfuckingwhattheeverlovingfuck_. And Dean finds himself on the ground. He’s being laid on his back, on the very soft, very plush and luxurious carpet of Castiel’s office. Castiel’s body covers his own. Dean doesn’t protest, doesn’t ask questions, because Castiel kisses him again, and it's so soft, so fucking soft, and a little wet, and Dean's heart hurts.

Kisses turn into playful bites into his lips, pulling a little too hard, until Dean whimpers and his hips buck up. Castiel isn’t inside of him and it’s not fair. He should be inside of him if he’s going to kiss him like this. If he’s going to pull and twist his hair into his fist, if his fingers are going to dig in his thigh like this.

Castiel chuckles. His mouth moves down. Dean’s neck. He sucks a bruise there. Dean didn’t know he was still into that - no one has given him a hickey since he was a fucking teenager - but holy shit. He is, if it’s Castiel. It feels so possessive - Cas knows very well that he's marking Dean skin right above the edge of his collar, where everyone will see tomorrow morning. And everyone will wonder who gave the boss' assistant fucking _hickeys_. Castiel hums against Dean's skin as he kisses over the bruise. 

"Beautiful."

Dean squirms. This is getting a lot - being claimed and called beautiful and _touched_ like this- but Castiel holds him still. Kisses down his chest. A mouth wraps around his nipples, suckles. It stings. Dean whines. He tugs on Castiel’s hair. He wants more, but he desperately needs less. It's too much and not - it's too much.

“Please, Cas. C’mon.”

“There’s so much I want to do to you,” Castiel says, ignoring him.

His hand finally wraps around Dean's cock again and strokes. Slowly, barely there flick of wrist, feather thumb brushing on the head of his cock. Dean cants his hips, fingers curling into the soft tufts of the carpet. This is a torture.

“I’ll put in writing that you have full freedom to do whatever the fuck you want with me as long as right now, you just _keep fucking me,_ ” Dean snaps.

Castiel laughs and kisses Dean’s belly button. “Such impatience.”

He nibbles down his navel, avoiding his cock with intent. His tongue under Dean's balls. A barely there flicker over the head of his cock. 

"Fuck, Cas, _c'mon_ -"

Suddenly Castiel stands back on his heels. He grabs Dean's thighs and lifts, locking them around his waist, and just like that he's sliding home again. He's so big and so hard and finally Dean is full and _fuck -_  Dean groans, arches, tightens around him. He wants to cry at how good this feels, how thankful he is. Castiel leans and kisses the corner of his eyes, his mouth. He moves with infinite precision, slow grinds that draw strangled sounds out of Dean. Castiel smiles at his impatience again, at the way his fingers claw into his skin.

It’s so good but it’s so _little_ , because he should be fucking slamming into Dean right now, he should be fucking him so hard Dean forgets where he is and who he's with. But instead Castiel keeps driving his hips into him so  _purposefully_ , kissing him like he has a thirst only Dean's mouth can quench, and he looks at him with eyes blue above him like the night sky. It’s too much.

Dean turns his head to the side, Castiel's lips catching on his jaw. 

“C’mon,” he mumbles with a weak pat against Cas' thigh.

“What?”

Dean groans. "C'mon, Cas." He should ask;  _harder, fuck me harder. Stop looking at me, stop kissing me, and just fuck me like I-_

“Is this bad?” Castiel questions as he pushes in deep, making Dean whine. 

“N-no. Just-”

Another long thrust and Dean’s legs tighten around his waist. Castiel’s lips press on his ear, his neck.

“Just what?”

“This isn't how it-”

Castiel lets him breathe, gives him time, his body keeping the steady rocking that brushes the head of his cock against Dean's prostate at every roll. It makes it very hard for Dean to think about anything.

"Just - you can just do it," Dean finally manages to mumble, his eyes shut tight. "You don't have to-"

"To what?"

"I'm fine with just - you can just fuck me, and if I'm not done a handjob's fine, or just - you don't have to - you can just fuck me. I ain't gonna break."

"I know that."

Castiel sighs and leans away from Dean's face. “Is that what you want? For me to fuck you hard and senseless? For me not to care?”

_Yes_ , Dean should say.

“‘t’s what I’m used to.”

“It's not what I asked."

"It's-" Dean musters his courage and steals a quick glance into Castiel's eyes. Shit. He shouldn't have done that. Why did he do that? No one has ever looked at him like that and it's not fucking fair. "It's easier."

Castiel considers him for a moment.

"Well, I don’t want to do that.”

His mouth trails hot on Dean's skin again, and oh, fuck, there he goes, again with the slow drag of his cock inside of him. Dean tightens around him almost painfully. Exquisitely.

"Look at me."

Dean does. His stomach does a somersault, like he's missed a step and suddenly he's freefalling into the sky.

“I want to make this last. I have waited a long time for you.” Cas gently brings Dean’s gaze back to him every time he tries to escape. "I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would get this. Get you. I am not ready for this to end."

Dean bats his eyes to make the tears go away. All the dude has admitted to is how badly he's been wanting to fuck him. No reason to get all teary, and yet.

Castiel kisses him, deep, and fucks him slow, and Dean surrenders. Maybe he gets this, whatever this is. The _so good it hurts_. Maybe this is - maybe this is supposed to be like this. Dean buries his hand in the mop of Castiel's hair, arches his body up. He takes it all in, every touch, every kiss, every word of praise spoken toosoftly against his skin.

After what feels like an eternity of their bodies sliding together, of pull and drag that make Dean's toes curl and his skin prickle, of warm and wet kisses that end with breathless hair pulling and whines of protests, Castiel finally begins to fucking _move_.

It's a perfectly measured crescendo that has Dean heaving and whimpering. Faster, faster, and faster - harder, too, hard enough for Castiel's thighs to slap on Dean’s ass, and fuck, fuck, yes, yes,  _yes_!

“Tell me when you’re close,” Castiel bites into Dean’s shoulder.

“Yes, sir," Dean huffs between two strings of curses.

It doesn’t take long. The drag of Castiel's stomach against his cock is heavenly.

“Close, Cas, so close - fuck-”

And just as Dean is about to let the orgasm rip through him, Castiel stops moving. He pulls back, his warm skin replaced by cold air on Dean's cock. Dean growls in frustration and tries to grind against him, but Castiel's fingers are like steel on his hips and they keep him pinned down, immobilized.

“What the fu- are you kidding me?” Dean whines, the frustration of the _almost there_ spreading through his body.

Cas laughs - the evil fucker - and dips down to kiss him.

“That’s just rude, Cas.”

“You’re beautiful when you’re mad.”

“So I’m not allowed to come now?”

“Not until I say so. And I'm not done yet.”

“That’s not fair! You’re super old. You could last _forever_.”

There’s only so much _almost there_  Dean's body can endure, so much _so good it hurts_ he can suffer through before he starts screaming.

Castiel’s features fall down. “You think I’m old?”

“I meant-”

“I can still have orgasms, Dean. I’m thirty-three.”

Dean laughs, because Cas is the bothered one now, and it's kind of a relief. He wraps his arms around Castiel's shoulders and pulls him back down. “I know. I was kidding. Mostly.”

Cas still frowns as he looks down on him. He’s still not moving. Dean rolls his eyes.

“C’mon dude. Give me a little something.”

“I didn’t realize the age difference bothered you.”

“It doesn’t. It’s hot. I like it," Dean adds, and he tries to put as much honesty into his eyes as he can manage. "I like you." (Too far, Dean, too far. But too late.) "I’m just about to fucking burst here. Don’t have your endurance yet.”

Castiel considers him for a few (interminable) seconds. "Okay. If you say so."

Dean lets out a moan of relief when Castiel moves again. He wonders for a moment if the dude has a magic dick that  _always_ not quite poke at his prostate but frustratingly brushes over it instead, just enough to make his whole body shake as he clenches impossibly around him.Castiel’s lips trail down his neck, behind his ears.

“So this is _only_ due to your age?" Castiel questions between kisses. "That’s why it's so easy for me to make you come undone?"

A deep blush spreads on Dean's cheeks. He doesn't like the smugness in Castiel's voice.

"I wouldn't say _easy_ -"

"So it's only due to your youth that if I just move like _this_ -”

Castiel pulls back slightly and changes the angle of his thrusts, fucking him harder and faster and okay, fuck, fuck, now he's fucking  _nailing_ Dean's prostate at every thrust and it only takes five more pushes before Dean yells.

“Close close close close Cas _fuck_ -”

He growls in frustration as Castiel stills again.

“ _A_ _sshole_.”

Cas ignores the insult, humming and going back to kissing every inch of Dean he can reach; shoulders, chest, neck, cheeks, nose…

Dean bites his lips. Okay, this is unfair. This time, when Cas starts moving, he moves too - purposefully, rotating his hips and tightening his ass around Cas’ cock every time he buries deep. And yes maybe he's shooting himself in the foot because  _holy fuck,_ but at least he's not alone anymore _,_ and hegrins when Castiel throws his head back and groans. Delicious pink has spread down his chest, sweat glistening on his skin as he moves, and he can't seem to stop, letting out strangled sounds every time Dean snaps his ass back against his hips.

“Two can play this game, Cas.”

Castiel shoots him a glare but doesn’t answer. Instead he kisses him, and if his eyes weren't filled with an emotion that makes Dean's heart clutch painfully, he would be relishing the fact that Castiel seems to be finally giving in. He moves into Dean's body as Dean moves into him, hands pressed on the floor for better leverage. He fucks him deeper, harder. His lips are on Dean’s neck, murmuring insane words in his ear that Dean can't ignore.

When Castiel's hand fumbles between them and wraps a firm grip around his cock Dean arches, seconds away from losing it for the third time. But he doesn't. He wants to be good, as good as Castiel keeps telling him he is.

“Very soon, baby," Castiel murmurs, sending shivers through Dean's spine. "Just when I tell you to.”

Dean's nails sink in the skin of Castiel’s back.

“ _Now_. Come for me.”

Dean opens the gate and lets the flooded pleasure of his orgasm tear through him just as the snap of Castiel's hips becomes erratic, shoving his cock against his prostate so hard that Dean sees stars. And then explosions. And fireworks. And even more fucking stars as he tightens again and again around Castiel's cock, as he claws at his skin and buries his face into his neck.

His orgasm lasts a long time. He realizes, vaguely, that he’s grinding helplessly against Cas, biting his neck and his cheek and everything he can reach, until stars turn into white and white turns into dark.

Dean feels like he’s floating on clouds after clouds of pink, glittery pleasure. His body is resting on cotton candy in the sky, drifting under the sun.

And then he's just there, on the floor, Cas chuckling against his chest. He has come on his chin.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbles. 

“Don’t be,” Cas murmurs.

Dean wants to raise his hand and wipe Castiel's face but he can't. Too heavy.

Castiel does it instead, licking his fingers clean one by one. And then he proceeds to do the same with all the sticky, warm liquid on Dean’s chest. If Dean hadn't just had the most amazing orgasm of his life, this view might do it.

“Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit, Cas. Holy _fuck_.”

"No one has ever called my sexual talent  _holy_ before, but I appreciate it."

"Fuck you," Dean mumbles. It vaguely registers somewhere in his brain that he just told his boss to - but to be fair, Castiel has just fucked the life out of him so, Dean should get a pass.

Castiel moves down between Dean’s legs, and then he's doing it - his tongue licks broad on Dean's raw, fucked out hole. He moans, trashes, but Castiel holds him still. He licks and cleans him thoroughly, and it's way too much; the oversensitivity would be painful if Castiel's tongue wasn't as soft, as warm, as gentle. Tears prickle on the corner of Dean's eyes and he’d take this for a few thousand more years. 

When he's done, Castiel crawls back to lay next to him. Dean struggles to find a way to breathe steadily again. Castiel’s laying on his side but not touching him, almost like he's shy. Dean reaches out and lays a hand on his thigh. Not touching feels wrong. It seems that it’s all Castiel needed to curl up against his chest, his head tucked under Dean’s chin, his leg hooked between his thighs, palm flat on top of his beating heart.

“I’m really fucking happy I accidentally sent you those dick pics,” Dean murmurs.

His fingers trace a lazy pattern on Castiel's back.

“Are you still pretending it was an accident?”

“It was - I _swear_. It was this guy - Chuck, I - I met him on Grindr. He works here, in payroll. He was right next to you in my contacts-”

“Chuck.”

Dean can feel Castiel frown against him. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone named Chuck in payroll.”

“Chuck’s probably a nickname. Must be Charles something.”

Cas gets up on his elbow to look him in the eyes. He doesn't look jealous - just confused.

“Dean, we don’t have anyone named Chuck, or Charles, or Charlie - or any variation of that name, working at this branch at all.”

Dean shrugs. “A new hire, maybe?”

“I doubt it.” Castiel still looks suspicious. "I review all the hires."

“What, you think I was catfished?”

“I’m not saying anything,” Cas murmurs as he lays himself back against Dean.

“Did _you_ catfish me? Because _that_ is sexual harassment, Cas,” Dean teases.

“Dean. No,” Cas frowns, ever so serious. “I’m not saying that. I would never do that. I’m just saying it's weird."

Dean shrugs again. For some reason, he really doesn't give a fuck about Chuck right now. Guy might as well not exist.

"Important thing is it got us here.”

Cas grumbles.

“Are you still jealous?”

“No. Of course not. I have no right to be.”

Dean bites his lips. Then he presses a kiss to Cas' forehead, murmuring his next words against his skin.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’ve just effectively ruined me for anyone else.”

The most adorable goofy grin to ever grace a human face spreads on Cas' lips.

“Good to know."

A moment passes. Castiel's fingers are playing on his skin too, leaving goosebumps in their track. Dean wraps his arms tighter around Cas. He doesn't want this to end. Doesn't want to go back to sitting at his desk and pretend this never happened. He doesn't want to spend his days yearning and burning for Cas again. Especially now that he knows what he feels like. How much  _more_ he is than just...

“Dean, would you - and you know you can say no and your work won’t be affected at all - but would you - would you consider having dinner with me?”

Dean can feel Castiel hold his breath against him.

“Like a… like a date?”

“Yes. Well, not _like_ a date. A real date. A romantic date.”

"Hell yes."

Cas grins, hiding his face in Dean’s neck and it’s the cutest fucking thing Dean has ever seen. That’s his boss. That's the vice president of northern regional sales. Who is  _smitten_ with him right now. 

Castiel finally emerges to kiss him, and Dean moans, sinking back into it, into the warmth of his skin and the roll of his muscles and- Dean’s stomach grumbles loudly in the tiny room.

“Hey, um. About that date. How does right now feel? 'Cause I’m kind of fucking starving.”

Castiel gets up and grabs Dean's hand to haul him up. Then he kisses him again. 

“Excellent initiative. This is exactly why I hired you. Now get dressed," he orders, smacking Dean's ass.

"You have my underwear," Dean points out.

"And I'm keeping it. We're going to a fancy place, Dean. You can't wear stained underwear."

The fucking mischevious grin and  _horrible_ wink that come with that statement render Dean speechless.

He could get used to this. He could  _so_ get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [here](http://casbeanie.tumblr.com/) or [here](http://casbean.tumblr.com/)


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